Castlevania Dracula's Curse
by Lithuriel
Summary: The remote village of Wallachia is experiencing very dark times. Disease and famine have spread across the area. Morale is low. The village is at a loss. Superstitious whispers are starting to appear. Could this be a curse? Could there be dark magic emanating from the long empty castle in the distance?
1. Chapter 1

***Author's notes*  
**

**I grew very excited about the animated movie for Castlevania 3 but little word has surfaced about it recently. My impatience gave rise to creativity and I began typing. I have never written something like this, but I will be actively updating. I warn you though, I am not the best at this, but I felt the need to do it. Any criticism is welcome and will help me become a stronger story teller.  
**

**Prologue: **

_A Village in Turmoil_

It was raining harder than usual that night in Wallachia. A storm had been raging for three days. Disease and famine had entered the quaint walls of the farming community about when the torrent started. The crops died within hours, not to mention the terrible cough that was accompanied by even worse, unimaginable symptoms. These were dark times indeed. It was eerily quiet within the village. Not a soul walked the mud filled streets. The villagers must have been on edge as not a single candle light permeated any of the windows of the sparse dwellings. The only exception was a medium sized building that looked thrown together and in need of serious repair. A dilapidated sign hung precariously overhead. It read: "the Smog's Breath Inn and Tavern". Inside, sparsely huddled around the main hall were villager men. Most were farmers speaking of how little their crops were producing. A few hushed voices suggested a curse was the cause of the streak of bad luck the village had suffered recently.

"I tell you I saw 'em as plain as day!" shouted a rather gravelly voice. The voice belonged to Shamus, an old farmer who lived on the outskirts of the village. He was short and emaciated, with a long white mane and an equally lengthy beard. He stood up on a table so that all in the tavern could hear him. "Wolves that walked on legs of a man took 'em!" The men showed signs of severe agitation at the old man's claims.

"You say you saw them this very night old man?" mocked a rough looking man as he pushed through the crowd that was beginning to form at the base of the table. He was tall and muscular with a thick mustache and about half the old man's age. "You're telling me all of our children were carted off by monsters in the night?"

"It's the truth I say!" Shamus answered. "They boys and girls were all glassy eyed and just walked single file only to be swallowed up by the forest!" The room fell into a hush.

Truth or not, the fact of the matter was still the same. All of the children in the village had vanished just hours before without a struggle. Without so much as a sound. This was the last blow that these people could take. Their women were ordered to remain indoors while the men of the village had gathered at the inn to figure out what to do. Hacking coughs filled the room off and on. It seemed when one started, others would quickly join in with their own labored splutters.

"They must've come from the abandoned castle!" continued Shamus.

"You're crazy old man!" shouted one of the villagers.

"I'll bet it was bandits!" wheezed another.

"What if something did come from the castle? Maybe that's why none of our crops produced this season! Maybe that's why everyone in town is afflicted with this wretched sickness." someone yelled from the back of the room.

"My whole family has boils all over their body!" a man struggled to finish his sentence before having a coughing attack.

"All of us have boils on our bodies!" A man corrected the previous statement.

Around then everyone began shouting over the top of one another again and the old man sat back down defeated.

"Order! Order!" shouted a man over the crowd. They settled down to pay attention to the figure with the voice of authority. It belonged to the mayor of the village. A man in his mid-forties. He was not very tall and was of a heavier stature than most of the village folk. His skin seemed to be greasy and his plump face bore a long curly moustache.

"This man speaks of monsters! Fairy tale stuff! You and I both know that castle has been abandoned since the dawn of time. The old thing barely stands! Even if there were these "Wolf Men" living in it, there is no way to reach it without a boat and it is too treacherous for even the most seasoned and skilled sailor. Not to mention the forest, the swamp, and other obstacles that would prevent hardened men from completing the journey. There has simply got to be a more acceptable answer than boogie men and other nonsense."

"Then what do you suggest!" scoffed one of the upset men.

"Me? Well first off I w-"

He was cut off by the sound of the inn door hitting the wall violently with the wind as it opened. The villagers hushed at the sound. In the doorway stood a dark figure encased in a black cloak. Everyone eyed the newcomer with suspicion and more than a little fear. Not a soul could make out his features under the hood. Lightning flashed and thunder bellowed as the figure took a step inside. The men sunk in their seats, not sure what this was about. He walked slowly to the bar, the barkeep trying with all of his might to keep his courage about him. A bag of gold slammed on the bar counter in front of the hooded man. The barkeep eyed it slowly with a puzzled look and then looked into the empty hood.

"Ale." came a rugged voice from within the fabric.

"s-s-sure thing stranger." stuttered the shaken bartender as he rushed off to fetch his request.

"Hey!" shouted a large man behind the wraith-like traveler. "Just what in the hell do you think you are doing coming in here from god knows where like this? In case you haven't noticed, this is a private meeting!"

The large man's question was met with silence.

"You listening to me? I'm talking to you!" Again the shouting giant of a man only received silence. By then the ale had arrived. The man in the cloak took a large gulp beneath his hood.

"You son of a bitch!" yelled the muscular behemoth as he lumbered closer. I'm gonna teach you a lesson you won't soon forget!" This boast was met with cheers from the, until then, silent men in the tavern. With confidence, he reached for the cloaked man's shoulder. His hand was caught mid grasp and he was surprised when his balance failed him. Still sitting on the bar stool, the man in the hood yarded the giant's arm downward with little effort without so much as turning around. The mass of muscle was launched in the same direction with an amazing amount of force sending his face into the counter with a "CRACK" that echoed throughout the room. Teeth flew in all directions. He lay on the floor folded into a heap letting out a slight twitch before falling still. The hooded man took another drink from his tankard.

Silence filled the room once again with a few hushed whispers of "Is he dead?" The men closest to the event could tell that the giant still breathed, though shallowly. The mayor calmly approached the newcomer and cleared his throat. "That was a stunning display indeed! A truly marvelous display of strength! Although, you shouldn't have taken the man seriously. He is mostly boastful and not usually violent. You see, we are having a bit of a problem tonight and find ourselves wary of foreigners."

All eyes were on the mayor as he spoke to the silent outsider. A few men started their coughing fits again.

"I see you are a quiet one indeed. No matter. I think it best that you leave this place and be on your way as soon as you have finished your ale."

"Can't." spoke the outsider matter-of-factly.

"It speaks!" jeered the mayor. "And why might that be?"

The figure fell silent once more, but only briefly.

"Because demons are outside your gates." The man then ripped his hood back and slammed a whip onto the counter.


	2. Chapter 2

***Author's notes***

**Ok, its time to really kick this story out. Hopefully the prologue gave the readers enough to keep reading. I wrote both the prologue and chapter one the same day. I thought about combining the prologue with the first chapter but then thought it would be best to leave them apart. Thanks for reading this far. Don't be afraid to offer any advice. I feel like I need it. I have two more chapters written, but I am not 100% happy with them. Some of the dialog seems off to me. Sorry if the setting seems grim/dark to some of you. There will be a balance between hopeless and hope. My idea is to make it my own version of events from the game... but then again I think that is what most people would do. Look at me, I'm rambling.**

**Chapter One**

She winced as the mud sucked greedily at her boots. With every determined step she realized how tired she was becoming. The woman leaned against a tree to pause and wring the water from her long straight golden hair. The hood of her light blue robe did little to stave off the water falling angrily from the sky. Her green eyes sparkled in the light of her torch as she took a cautious look at her surroundings. The woman's face was soft and gentle yet she appeared wise beyond her age. Any passerby would assume she was at the onset of her twentieth year. She felt eyes on her from every direction. A shudder escaped her body and electricity tickled her milky skin as she opened her pack to eat from her dwindling supply of rations. When she brought a brick hard biscuit up to her ruby lips, thoughts of how she got into this mess filled her head.

Although she was a powerful and cunning sorceress, her training did little to prepare her for this journey. She came from a long line of sorceress'. It was in the Belnades blood. "Sypha." Her mother would say. "One day you will follow in your family's footsteps and lead a life filled with magic and wonder." _Wonder indeed, she thought to herself as the cold wind bit viciously at her slender figure._ A star pupil at the magic school, she only just graduated days before she was called to undertake this quest. The elders at the academy had sent her to confirm their darkest fears. The matron had a vision a week before. A vision of lights… in the ancient castle's windows.

Darkness permeated the wooded area of the murky swamp. The splatter of the downfall was the only audible noise. Cautiously, Sypha took another labored step forward. _This is getting ridiculous. _She thought to herself. The golden haired sorceress traveled ever forward through the murky swamp. She stopped suddenly when a bolt of lightning flashed in the near distance. The boom of thunder echoed shortly after. That's when she heard something through the trees. The laughter of children.

Bolstered with curiosity she summoned whatever strength she could and marched towards the sound. Sypha soon spotted the light of a fire. Slowly she peered through the underbrush trying desperately to not make a sound. There in a small clearing were children dancing hand in hand, singing joyfully as the circled a huge bonfire. They were completely nude yet the weather seemed to have no effect on their bodies. On and on they circled joyfully. The image grew stranger when she spotted the men beating drums outside their circle. They seemed to wear the head and torso of wolves… no they weren't wearing anything. They were part man and beast!

Her eyes widened in further horror when she took a look beyond the drumming men. Three disembodied heads floated just beyond the nightmarish festival. They were the heads of a female yet they had serpents where their hair should have been and jaws stretched with row upon row of razor sharp fangs. They seemed to be chanting something that even she could not discern with her skills. Sypha muffled a gasp when she caught a glimpse of the children's faces. All of their eyes had been plucked from their sockets. Blood streamed from the vacant holes that were once filled with orbs that granted sight. Their faces were twisted into a smile that could only be described as painful. The sorceress shook her head in defiance at the horrors that had unfolded. She just stared in shock for a minute longer until the chanting and drumming suddenly ceased and the canine humanoids disappeared into nothingness. The children unlocked hands and faced the pyre in the middle. One by one they fell forward into the inferno, not making a noise or movement upon contact with its intensity. The stench of burning flesh suddenly wafted through the clearing as the children were engulfed. Their little bodies cracked open from the pressure of their internals boiling in the intense heat. The fluids hissed as the flames licked up every last drop. She heard the wretched laughter echoing from those hideous floating heads. Sypha hadn't realized the scream when it escaped her throat upon seeing the display of hellishness. The heads did. And they smiled ever wider in her direction.

She turned quickly to flee but knew that the hideous heads would pursue. They shrieked in the distance behind her. She ran through the mud as fast as she physically could. Sypha had never been so frightened in her life. Gasping for breath she rushed deeper and deeper into the swamp. She had no way of telling which direction she was heading. All the sorceress knew was that she didn't want to even think of what would happen to her if those things caught up to her. The mud was unforgiving and Sypha could hear the evil cackling growing closer by the second. She didn't dare look behind her. The magic user did not want to know how far behind they were. The laughing was growing nearer still. She turned to her right and crashed through the thick brush hoping to throw them off her trail.

She was surprised when she found herself in a barren flat area devoid of the terrain of the murky swamp. The ground was covered in moss and stones with tufts of grass spread sparingly. Sypha was happy to be free of the mud, but the feeling didn't last long. They were coming. She darted her eyes about her to quickly get a better view of the surroundings. There were statues everywhere. They appeared to be of women, their faces twisted in horror. Most, if not all were smashed up into pieces that littered the ground. The statues were unsettling enough, but why anyone would go through the trouble to destroy all of them escaped her. The only building she could see was a small mausoleum. It was made of stone and it appeared to have very ancient design. The door was a crumpled mess of stones in the entryway. She remembered her situation and ducked behind a large chunk of statue, hoping that she was hidden enough. The hood of her robes had fallen back when she was running, her hair at the mercy of the elements.

The sorceress held her breath as the cackling was just beyond the edge of the open area. "AHAHAHAHAHA!" they laughed in unison. She could hear them come through the brush. Sypha cursed herself for letting this happen and prayed that her end wasn't near.

"Where did the pretty girl go?" asked one of the heads only to have the question repeated by the other two. "Perhaps her good fortune has brought her right to my son's garden?" The other two repeated the first again. "Such a pretty, pretty girl." If Sypha wasn't so scared she would be annoyed at the other two constantly repeating everything the first one said. "Come out my dear so that I may get a better look at you!" Sypha's breathing grew heavier as she could feel them eyeing the area.

"Such a lucky girl." the statement echoed twice more. "My son has grown tired of his old wives. What a fortunate night for him!" They began cackling as one.

Sypha knew she had to act or else she may die, or even worse end up those things' daughter in law. She didn't even want to think about what twisted abomination he might be. She stood up quickly, ready to strike them down with magic… but they were nowhere to be seen. _Perhaps they moved on._ She hoped to herself with everything she had. She turned around to continue on, only to meet the terrible gaze of one of the disembodied heads. Its grin showing row upon row of sharp teeth.

"Found you!" it said excitedly while the others quickly appeared behind. "Oh you are quite beautiful. Does it make you uncomfortable when an old lady tells you that? I was just as beautiful once. Maybe even more so. Don't be scared. My son will just fall in love with you. He does get bored with his wives though. Smashes them up good!

Sypha winced at the whole situation. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Oh that's up to my son." The statement was twice repeated behind the terrible floating head. The snakes writhed back and forth. "However I suppose I should get a better look at you to make sure you are even worthy of such a prize."

The head lunged toward Sypha, the snakes nipping at her. Quickly they got hold of the front of her robe and with great force tore it open, revealing her bare chest to the ever present rain. Sypha cried out in protest but went unheard. Her robe cascaded down her body until it slumped to the ground. Her naked flesh glistened from the water falling from the sky. She tried to hide herself but the other two heads lashed her wrists with their elongated tongues holding her still.

"Yes you will do." The grotesque thing said. "My son will show interest with you for a long time. With a body like that you would be a rival to Aphrodite herself! He is very particular about his women though. Silence is what attracts him the most in a woman. When he is done with you, a fine addition to his garden you will make indeed!"

Sypha felt a pain on her wrists and numbness in her feet. She turned and saw the other two humanoid creatures sinking their rows of teeth into her arms. The numbness was climbing slowly up to her knees, steadily increasing in speed. The heads began laughing once again. She wondered if they had paralyzed her. She looked at her bare legs in horror as she saw that they were turning into stone. She managed to whisper "No." in defiance. This only increased the head's laughter.

"Before you go to sleep, I'd like you to meet your husband to be!" The head in front of her said, while the other's repeated. Sypha heard a crash in front of her. Then loud, thundering footsteps. The last thing Sypha Belnades saw before the stone curse took her was a giant humanoid with thick muscles come into view. He had a single horn on his head joined by one eye in the middle of his face. He drooled as he gazed lustfully at his new bride. His grin grew wider as he approached. The severed heads started laughing again, piercing Sypha's ears. Just as the monstrous hand of the creature reached out towards her naked form, darkness' cold embrace took her.

The man in the cloak revealed his face to all in the room. He had handsome features beyond that of most mortal men. Hair the color of soil cascaded to the base of his shoulders. It was parted to the side ever so slightly, allowing a small section to obscure some of his features. Piercing blue eyes seemed to glow brightly in the dim light of the tavern. His jaw covered in a day's worth of stubble. He was of medium height. Age marked him at around his mid-twenties. His shapely eyebrows furrowed with seriousness.

The villagers gasped at what the newcomer had said. A few men could be heard repeating it in disbelief. _Demons. _Some mocked the foreign man, while others showed signs of more than worry. The man turned to face the pudgy mayor. A look of grimness filled his face. The mayor returned his look but it quickly turned into a big grin. He then began laughing heartily at what appeared to be an elaborate joke. The other men in the room soon joined with laughter of their own, and a man with less conviction than the newcomer would flee the room in shame when mocked so. Yet he stood his ground and just continued his gaze upon the authority figure. His eyes bore into the mayor's and the fat man could feel his soul being penetrated by them. The mayor's laughter abruptly ceased and was soon followed by quiet throughout the whole room.

"Sir, you have a lot of balls." accused the greasy leader. There is no basis for your claims. You must be some sort of rogue who roams from town to town with this story, hoping to fill your purse with gold!" The mayor's face showed great anger. "By the looks of things, it must have worked then, but it will not work here. We have suffered enough and will not be preyed upon by your scheme."

The crowd in the room reflected their leader's anger by throwing insults and threats at the outsider. A bottle smashed just beyond his head, but he didn't flinch or break his cold gaze from his accuser.

"You are all in grave danger." he said without any inflection or emotion.

"Let's have it then." The mayor demanded. "We aren't the type to spoil a good story. You can start with your name."

"Trevor." came the man's answer. "Trevor Belmont."

"Belmont eh?" the mayor pondered a moment. "I have never heard that name before. You must be a long way from home. How many villages have you tried this plan on? It fills me with sadness when I think about how many people you must have swindled out of what little valuables they may have had."

Trevor ignored what the man was saying. His expression remained cold and indifferent. The mayor then continued.

"Demons outside our gates. I am sure there are most certainly not. How do you know of these demons?"

The Belmont man turned his gaze towards the men in the room. The greasy pig was not worth trying to reason with and he was quickly growing tired of his attitude. Time was of the essence. He did not raise his voice as he spoke to the crowd.

"Your village will be attacked this very night. I have seen it in a vision brought to me by God and his servants. Enough with these accusations hear me or you may already be dead. Four nights ago, I was awakened in the night by the whispers of a thousand men and women. They spoke of a curse upon this land. It will spread until the entire world is engulfed. Your crops will die. Your companions will all fall ill. When all hope is drained from you and there is nothing left for the curse to take, they will come."

He turned to the mayor once more. "and they will take your souls. Unless I discover the origin of this curse, this world will be doomed."

The mayor appeared amused by the story. However, the villagers in the room grew a little uneasy at the mention of what they all secretly feared. Superstition had entered the land in recent days and grew as coincidence gave way to something greater. They muttered amongst themselves horror etching their faces.

"A marvelous story." interjected the mayor. "and if there is a curse upon my fair village and demons are lying in wait at this very moment, how do you plan on stopping them, hmm?" The greasy face of the mayor eyed the whip on the counter. "Surely not with that!" It appeared to be a normal leather bullwhip that anyone around horses would carry. The exception was the weighted cross at its end. The crucifix was bladed on all sides and was split down the middle by a similar cross so that no matter which way it was turned it would look the same. It was much like the head of a mace in design. There was an Aramaic inscription carved into the weight that no one there could make sense of. It was thoroughly polished on all sides, making it a beautiful sight to behold.

He began laughing once more but he found that he was the only one in the room doing so this time. The inn was full of now panicking villagers. They all began praying, some crying and some just staring blankly ahead ready to give up. The mayor took notice of the state of the villagers and he took a serious stance once more.

"Don't you see men?" he addressed them. "This man is a liar and a scoundrel. Do not pay him any heed."

Shamus approached Trevor and the mayor and pointed a finger at the outsider. "I told you!" he yelled, his voice cracking into a cough. "It's a curse! Our crops are dead and we're all sick just like the man says!"

"Dear God what did we do to deserve this?" one of the frightened men shouted from the back of the room. Exclamations of "We're doomed" gave way to words even more helpless as the dwellers of the village lost all hope they had mustered. The Mayor looked at a loss of what to do.

He looked at the Belmont with a face full of defeat. "Look what you have done." He said wearily. "You've killed whatever hope these men had. Any passerby can see that our crops are dead and that we are afflicted by a terrible sickness. I can see where you would have come up with that part of the story. I am afraid our problem worsened this night. Our children were taken."

"By Werewolves!" shouted shamus who had returned to his bar seat and put his weary head into his hands. No one mocked the old timer this time. Trevor walked coolly over to where the man was sitting and knelt down in front of him bringing their eyes level. His gaze penetrated the old man's very being. Shamus couldn't help but shiver a little.

"Is what you speak of the truth?" asked Trevor.

"Saw it with my own eyes." Shamus replied. "They were just walking single file with no regard to their surroundings."

"Where?" the Belmont pressed.

"To the east of the village by my home. They just marched with a purpose into the forest. No one goes there! Everyone is afraid of it."

Trevor stood up and marched to the counter and retrieved his whip. He then headed towards the door with fire in his eyes.

"Wait!" pleaded the mayor. "What are you planning to do? You can't be se-"

An enormous crash that sounded more like an explosion erupted from somewhere outside. It was followed by the agonizing screams of several women. The mayor pushed past Trevor to see what on earth was happening. Fires were set to several of the buildings. Women were running in the streets with terror in their eyes. The mayor spotted something in the distance. At first it was difficult to make out what was out there, but it was heading towards the inn. As it got closer more shadows could be seen behind. Then more. When the mayor could identify what was coming he let out a whimper.

"What in the name of God?" He asked to no one in particular. Trevor had moved to the mayor's side outdoors.

"God has very little to do with this." The whip wielder spoke.

Slowly they marched, no; they lumbered down the mud filled street towards the inn. A scream of absolute horror escaped the mayor as they came into view. They wore the remnants of clothing from another era. Most were nothing more than rotting rags hanging defiantly from their figures. Their bodies were devoid of flesh and muscle, skeletons of warriors from a time forgotten, animated by some dark pact with the devil. Onward they continued toward the inn. Faces of weathered bone seemed to grin with battle lust. The streets were filled with panic as the men had rushed outside to see what was happening. It was pandemonium. They began running about the streets. Some went looking for their wives. Some forsaking what was left of their families for their own skin. Most of the town was ablaze, the rain doing little to stave off the hungry fires. More screams filled the stormy night. In the middle of the narrow mucky pathway Trevor waited for them to come.

The mayor could take no more and his composure gave way to the selfish man he really was. He turned to flee down the street away from the oncoming skeletal warriors, but made it only a short distance. They were coming from that end as well. Blinded by fear, he noticed their horrific forms too little too late and ran headlong into their midst. They were surprisingly quick. One of them grabbed the pudgy man by the wrist and hoisted him above. The frame of the monster's skull seemed to twist ever so slightly, making its grin even more sinister. It tossed the man prone into the muddy street. As one they rushed the poor greasy man, as he tried desperately to crawl away. Boney hands reached out to him, faces twisted with evil. Their jaws clacked up and down and the mayor looked in disbelief. Were they laughing?

"What a terrible night to have a curse." The doomed man uttered just before he began screaming in defiance against his fate. They clawed and grasped at the mayor scratching him deeply all over his body. Terrified screams gave way to that of agony. Blood streamed ever so slightly from his wounds. One of the dusty creatures put its terrifying visage inches from the man's face. Pools of darkness filled the eyeless holes of the skeleton's ancient skull. In a flash the ancient warrior thrust its bony hands forth, sticking them in the mayor's mouth and grasping his upper and lower jaw.

With strength of ten men it pulled, tearing the man's pudgy face asunder. Red liquid exploded into the night sky. The lower half of his mouth hanging precariously by what little sinew was left. The pain was so unbearable that only air escaped his throat as he cried with suffering. The other devilish warriors joined in quickly. They dug into the fleshy rolls of his belly, ripping and tearing at him with abandon. His entrails were then pulled out of their cavity and held up to the night as spoils of war. The mayor lay in the now crimson mud lifeless.

Trevor hadn't notice the mayor when he ran away. His eyes were fixated towards the oncoming menace. He stared them down with and unearthly coldness. Battle would soon commence. The creaking of bones behind him gave away the new arrivals. A woman ran out of a house a short distance down the street clutching a bundle of whatever valuables she could grab. She ran blindly straight ahead of Trevor not bothering to look at the danger. The whip that was coiled in his hand suddenly unraveled letting its length kiss the wet earth. The cloak fell to the ground in a wet slump revealing his brown leather tunic. It was covered with many loops that fastened throwing axes all over his body. A large amount of daggers were latched in their sheaths on his belt. He was armed for this to be sure, and he was ready.

Trevor's muscled legs pumped hard as he leapt towards the skeletons, hoping to reach the woman before she met her doom. Breathing labouredly, he charged forth, passing the woman who was running blind to the danger ahead. Surprised by his sudden appearance, she yelped and stopped in her tracks, gaining her senses. Upon noticing the horrors she so foolishly nearly ran into, she changed her course with wide eyes and headed the opposite direction.

Trevor cursed under his breath, but it was too late to stop the foolish woman. He had arrived at his foes. The woman could be heard being torn apart shortly thereafter. He did not look back at the carnage. His powerful arm launched the whip outwards, sending the sharp weighted end sailing in front of him. It impacted the first skeleton with enough force to punch right through its sternum sending ribs and bone fragments sailing. The creature roared soundlessly in defiance before it collapsed into a pile of dust and decay barely resembling the horror it once was. Again the whip flew, beheading its mark with ease. This creature also collapsed into a pile. One of the boney demons wearing ancient rusty armor swung an equally damaged sword at Trevor's midsection. He leapt into the air, sending his legs over his head and landing in a crouch a few feet behind where he once stood. He threw one of the many axes towards the foul creature hitting it in the twisted thing's unarmored pelvis. Down it crumpled from the shattering of bone. It would not allow defeat so soon. With spindly fingers clawing at the mud, it crawled towards the waiting warrior. Trevor lifted his leather boot into the air and brought it down upon antiquated skull. Head crushed to pieces, it lay still. Two more rushed him. He swung his whip, easily dispatching them.

The men who managed to forget their fears joined the fight using whatever they could get their hands on for weapons. Wielding pitchforks, shovels, hammers, candlesticks they began battling for their lives. This bolstered a few men and women running in the streets to take up arms as well and join in. Valiantly the villagers fought for what little they had left. Some of them succumbed to gruesome ends. They would not give up. The mighty warrior had renewed their hope.

The skeletons in front of Trevor were defeated by the time the men and women of the small town began to fight. He turned on his heels and rushed to aid them in defeating the demons that arrived behind. As he rushed to them he noticed the lifeless corpse of the panicked woman who ran away from the attackers, all the while clutching her bundle of belongings. Her face had been torn from her, revealing the sinewy muscle beneath. The woman's throat was in shambles and there was little holding her head onto her shoulders. She held onto that bundle even until the end. Her death did not come quickly. Trevor barely noticed something odd as he passed by the vulgar display that made him stop in his tracks. The bundle that the woman clutched so dearly moved… and then cried out.

Trevor heaved a sigh as he knelt down quickly to inspect the source of the wriggling. The package that the woman desperately clung to till the end held her infant. Upon feeling the torrential downfall, the baby cried even louder. The warrior scooped the child up before too much attention was drawn and stood thinking of what to do. His thoughts were interrupted by an odd clanking sound from behind slowly rising in volume as it drew near the man and babe.

He slowly turned with confidence toward the odd sound. The source of the strange noise revealed itself ten feet in front of the two. It was a skeletal warrior that towered over Trevor. Instead of a humanoid skull staring at him with those black pits that the whip wielder had recently been fighting, he bore that of a bull. He wore an ancient ornate breastplate and greaves. In his left hand, a large circular shield with the telltale sign of the cross. In his right, a wicked looking saw edged sword was at ready. The foul creature stared at his prey menacingly.

"You dare get in the way of my lord's army?" a booming voice came from the thing, its mouth not moving. When it spoke, Trevor could hear it all around him, as well as inside his head.

"Who is this lord you speak of so proudly?" Trevor asked coolly.

"He is the Great Dragon!" replied the skeleton knight. "A man who has the power of the devil himself! A king forgotten by time. These lands belong to him and you prevent him from carrying out his wishes. For near a hundred and fifty years my master has long waited for this moment and you seek to rob him of his glory."

"Why does your lord seek to burn and massacre this defenseless village?" Trevor pressed further.

The Skeleton knight turned his gaze beyond the warrior and spotted the villagers slowly gaining the upper hand against the legion. "Defenseless indeed." it muttered with venom. "These men and women must be forced to pay for their sins against my master. All those years ago humankind struck a mighty blow against him that nearly crushed him. He has plotted for a long time. First this village will lie in ruin as a testament to my lord's power so that all of your kind knows what is coming. Then it will spread. Pestilence, famine, war and then death! Their apocalypse." A maniacal laugh filled the area around Trevor and grated at his very soul.

"Why are you so willingly telling me this?" Anger rising in Trevor's voice for the first time.

"I cannot keep the reason for a man about to die's cause of destruction from him." With that, the knight swung the toothy blade right at Trevor's face. He tumbled backwards, avoiding the heavy blow but was not left unscathed. The horrible creature managed to cause a deep knick from above his left eyebrow that ran to the top of his cheek. A fraction of an inch and he would have been robbed of sight in that eye. Stinging pain filled the area but he did not wince. He slung his whip toward the creature but it was blocked easily by the round hypocritical shield with a _clang_. Again and again he swung only to meet the protective devise. His left arm was occupied with holding the village baby so he only had one arm at his disposal. After a few more tries and a few more near hits from the wicked blade he decided to try a new tactic. He ran several feet away from the abomination and gently set the infant under a merchant's awning. He coiled his whip and hooked it into place on his belt as he turned to face his foe once more. The knight did not give chase but lumbered slowly to his prey.

Trevor drew forth both a dagger and an axe from their secure places and rushed at his enemy. The skeleton did what he had hoped and slashed once more with his sword. Trevor blocked it with his dagger and held it at bay. The skeleton was gaining the upper hand and the blade drew nearer. With all of his strength, he chopped at the thing's shield arm wildly with his axe. At first no harm was caused and he took several shield blows to his head. The knight screamed with battle lust. Back and forth they traded blows. _CHOP, SLAM, CHOP, SLAM. _All the while the saw edged blade drawing even closer. Just as consciousness was beginning to fail him, the shield arm shattered.

The knight let out a mighty roar and punched forth a Trevor's torso with what remained of his destroyed arm. Trevor leapt into the air and kicked the beast in the chest with both feet, sending it reeling. The knight stomped its foot in defiance and readied a charge. Trevor was also ready. In a flash he drew his whip and sent it flying towards the fleshless bull's head. It missed its target and the weighted end went sailing past, causing the knight to laugh at Trevor's misfortune. With a mighty jerk of the whip's handle he brought the cross flying back towards him. He flourished and the whip wrapped around the skull's horn. Trevor winded the weapon around his arm and then pulled the towering demon down to his level, his muscles straining to hold it.

The twisted skeleton screamed with rage causing pressure in Trevor's head giving him vertigo. He pulled hard still against the ungodly strength of the beast. His face was eye level with the knight.

"When my master hears of your insolence, he will take great pleasure in torturing you." The skeleton knight roared.

"Let him hear." came Trevor's reply as he drew forth his last remaining axe as fast as lightning and swung it at the Demon's neck vertebrae. His swing was true and with an explosive blow the knight's head was taken. The curious strength left the monster then and it fell forward bursting into flames. Trevor just sidestepped out of the way, returning his whip to its belt latch. What was once a mighty knight had become nothing but ash. Among the remains was a glowing orange orb the size of an apple. Curiosity got the better of the Belmont and he reached down to pick it up. Upon contact with the warrior's hand it melted away and absorbed into his skin. Trevor's body contorted in severe pain and he fell to the ground into the fetal position. Then the pain left him and he felt renewed and refreshed. He stood up and felt his face where the knick had occurred. To his amazement the blood had stopped! In fact, all of his wounds had been healed by the strange object.

He went to where he let the baby lay and scooped it up into his arms, cradling it gently. Somehow the child had managed to fall asleep during the chaos. Trevor's blank expression remained upon his face as he went to deal with the rest of the horde.

Cheers erupted within the village as every last remaining skeleton warrior burst into flames as well and crumpled into piles of dust where they stood. The fires had destroyed most of the buildings leaving it nowhere to spread. Most of the remaining men and women counted the dead and the living. They gathered up the corpses of their fallen friends and loved ones and set about giving them a proper burial. The boils on the villager's skin and the severe hacking vanished within hours to everyone's delight.

Trevor walked among the busy villagers helping when needed all the while carrying the small child in his arms. The worry on everyone's shoulders had seemed to disappear. A man came running up to the town's savior with tears of joy filling his eyes. He was the baby's father and he was overjoyed to see his offspring safe and sound. With outstretched arms, the man reached for the baby. Trevor relinquished the child to its father and the man held it and cried for most of the day. _At least one of the children is safe_. Trevor thought to himself. The rain stopped as suddenly as it began and something appeared behind the mountains. Daybreak had come at last… but Trevor knew what would happen at nightfall. The curse would return. He had to finish what he started.


	3. Chapter 3

***Author's notes***

**Not much to say here. Read on and enjoy. Oh I guess I should also say that all names and properties do not belong to me in any way and are the property of their respective owners. I see that sometimes and think "duh". Just a formality anyway.**

**Chapter Two**

The expansive room was shrouded in supernatural darkness. Each of its four walls was made of ancient stone with detailed carvings of early history adorning every inch. On the ceiling was a giant mural depicting that of a ferocious demon sacrificing men into an inferno. Below the flames was a detailed scene of hell and all of the many tortures awaiting the damned. Ornate windows lined the walls, letting in even more darkness. The room was longer than it was wide with red carpet starting from one end and leading to the base of a short set of stone stairs climbing up to a platform. Resting on the platform was a throne. Huge statues of skulls were on either side, glaring at all who would dare enter.

Sitting in the throne was a man with flowing, shoulder length hair as white as the face of the moon. The color did not seem to reflect his age as the mane's bearer appeared no older than his mid thirties. He was slender and quite tall when compared to most men. He was dressed in the expensive clothing of an aristocrat and wore an onyx cape with a red interior. His face bore a regal moustache and goatee that grimaced with anticipation and maybe a little boredom. He sat in his chair of stone with his head resting on his hand, elbow supported by the armrest. In his other hand was a goblet filled with a thick sanguine liquid that he rolled the top of in a circular motion aerating it. With little enthusiasm, he took a short sip from its contents.

The man stared forward for a long time at nothing in particular, seemingly lost in his head. Sip after sip was taken until the cup was nearly empty. He looked at the drinking device with a grimace before tossing it onto the floor.

"Something troubling you my lord?" came an unearthly voice behind the throne.

"Death." The man with the moonlight hair stated as if he was welcoming it like an old friend.

The voice's owner moved out of the shadows and into view. He wore well decorated purple robes that fluttered in a wind that touched nothing else in the chamber. The figure's form levitated inches from the ground calmly bobbing up and down slightly. The hood was pulled over the man's head, concealing much of his features. In his left hand he wielded an elaborate scythe made of the vertebrae of various creatures. Through the opening of the hood peered a humanoid skull with jaw intact. His features were otherworldly compared to a normal cranium and seemed to have a full range of expressions. What the robe didn't cover, old bandages did. A grey skeletal hand reached out and rested on the weary man's shoulders. Indeed the man sitting on the throne welcomed him as a friend.

"You seem restless." The reaper stated as he eyed the man with sympathy.

"You would think eons on this earth would allow me time to learn patience." The man scoffed.

"Ah, patience is a king's virtue they say." Death laughed hoping to elevate the man's mood.

"Empty words of Men with unobtainable ideals." The lord spit. "I hope you bring good tidings of slaughter over the Wallachian vermin."

"You seem to be in a poor mood, so maybe I should return at a later time." Death started to disappear into the shadows from whence he came but was stopped by the hand of the white haired man.

"What news do you have?" he asked.

"I really think we should talk of this later." Death answered.

"Out with it!" The lord commanded. With a heavy sigh death came out of the shadows again.

"Your attack on the village." He started, choosing his words carefully. "Did not go quite according to plan."

"What? I suppose a few of those infernal villagers escaped my hand of doom? No matter, my curse will soon spread and they will perish in time." The man said, his mouth growing into a wry smile.

"That is not exactly the news I bring you sire." Death began again. "It seems the villagers had help and" He was cut off by the throne's owner before he could finish.

"Help?" The man's voice was rising. "What do you mean help? Did the village burn or not?"

"Well, yes but… it seems an unknown warrior showed up randomly and defeated your general. He also laid waste to your mighty army." He paused briefly to let the weight of his words sink in. "The curse remains intact but has weakened. I am not sure how long it will hold. We need more souls." Death knew that the look on his master and friend's face was not a good sign. He had prepared for this. His wrath was something to be feared but he had known the man for a long time and could usually calm him. Surprisingly the man's lips turned up into a sinister smile revealing his ivory teeth and elongated canines. This worried the soul harvester more than just a little bit.

"One man you say?" he pondered as he stroked his goatee before bolting up out of his seat with excitement. "Now things are finally getting interesting! I had hoped there would be some resistance in the beginning. I have not felt a rush in emotion such as this in ages! Someone dares challenge me? Where is he now?"

"He remains in the village tending the wounded and burying the fallen." Death answered.

"Well let us see what his plans are now. I assume he will go looking for the children in a vain attempt to rescue them. See to it that the curse is strengthened once more. Abduct the human spawn in neighboring countries if you have to. I can't have something so trivial slowing my progress."

"Yes my lord. As you command." whispered the reaper.

"And one more thing, my old friend." The man gazed at the soulless eyes of death. "I want you to do me a favor once the preparations are finished."

"Anything my lord." The wraith replied with a bow.

"I want you to shadow this interesting warrior. He is brave indeed to have crossed me or perhaps he unwittingly bumbled into this situation. See what his plans are and report to me. Do not attack him unless I command. For now, I want to keep an eye on him."

Death narrowed his gaze. He was not sure what his master's plan was, but it appeared that to him a game was about to be played. Death enjoyed playing games with the living. His skeletal face twisted into a grin as he faded into the shadows.

The man was alone once more but enthusiasm now riddled his face. He looked like he hadn't ever been as entertained. He was soon plotting something with great abandon, while pacing in the expansive room. The newcomer to the land would pose little in the way of a threat to his grand scheme. He would truly enjoy toying with him for awhile. A foe had not presented them self since his reappearance in the old castle. How he loved to send the hopes and dreams of would-be heroes crashing down. His moment of concentration and amusement was suddenly interrupted. The great double doors at the other end of the room burst open with a loud crash.

"Father!" shouted the voice of the intruder. He marched into the room with great purpose. He had a great stride as he stormed into the great hall. He too wore the draping of a privileged aristocrat. He also wore a cape very similar to the dark lord's. Long wavy hair the same hue as the other man in the room cascaded past his shoulders. He appeared much younger than the goateed master and had an unearthly beauty that would send women and men alike swooning. "What is the meaning of this!" he demanded.

"Adrian, my son!" he exclaimed. "How good of you to visit during my moment of glory."

"Father, what you are doing to the people of the village is unacceptable!" Adrian yelled. "I heard about your plot through rumors in the castle. How many secrets are you going to keep from me?"

"Adrian, the humans of this world are not fit to walk its surface. I don't know how many times I must explain that to you." His father stated simply.

"This is the work of a monster, not the man I know!" Adrian's anger rising.

"Me a monster!" the lord returned, beginning to lose his patience. "After what they did to us, you dare label me a monster? They are the monsters! No, they are nothing more than cattle, peons who must be under the rule of someone who knows what is best for them. They are the monsters not I! And they have gotten a little too ambitious in years past don't you think?"

"They are a people, men and women. You have no right to pass judgment upon them!" Adrian hissed.

And they had the right to pass judgment so quickly those many years ago?" Adrien's father asked full of rage and disgust.

The man's son got quiet at this, his eyes fixated toward the floor. "You do as you wish then, but do not expect any help from me. I will not aid in this brutality."

"Then your help will not be asked!" yelled the elder. "They will come to know and fear the name Dracula without your help. And just to make sure you do not oppose my will, you are to remain in your quarters until this is over do you understand?"

"But father."

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes." came Adrian's simple answer.

"Then off with you, there is much to do and I grow weary of your little tirade."

"Of course father. I will not get in the way of your word again."

With that, Adrian Farenheight Tepes turned on his heels and stormed out of the room, slamming the doors shut behind him. Dracula put his head into his hands for a moment and then walked over to the nearest window, allowing him a view of his land as the sun started to rise in the distance. "He has much of his mother in him." He spoke to the empty room while he gazed out towards the forbidden rays of the appearing sun. "Lisa" he whispered.

Though Wallachia suffered a great blow by the massive slaughter caused by the undead in the night, the villagers worked all morning burying the unfortunate souls so heartlessly removed from the world of the living. Tirelessly they worked, not pausing to mourn the fallen. Some people wasted no time starting repairs on the few remaining buildings. Shelter and order was made a priority. A makeshift town hall was erected in the main square out of a canvas tent usually reserved for festivals. The mayor's son was appointed in his father's former position on a temporary basis to keep order and set up headquarters within the massive tent. The whole of the village worked together to restore a little of what had been robbed from them.

Trevor spent much of the morning helping in whatever ways he could. The villagers were more than happy to accept an extra hand of charity, but most couldn't help from noticing that the man who fought bravely for them the previous night retained an emotional distance of sorts. He was always quiet unless spoken to, and even then he would offer short responses to the conversation starters offered by the townspeople. The villagers just took him to be the strong and silent type and let it go at that.

When he was satisfied that the villagers were able to stand on their legs again, he headed towards the tent that housed the makeshift town hall. The tent that the village headquarters was in was just a large awning without walls of any sort. Villagers came and went as they pleased under its canopy, most seeking the advisory of the new mayor. It was a bustling place and seemed to be a place of gathering for townsfolk wishing to take a break from the day's hard work. Trevor spotted the mayor's son sitting at a desk in the middle of the large tent. He was only a boy of around fifteen. Trevor didn't question it; he could see that the townspeople had much respect and admiration for him and he wasn't one to judge anyway. The boy was talking to a small group of villagers, advising them on what they can do next to restore order. He was very thin and of average height. His shaggy red hair curled ever so slightly. Trevor watched the scene play out, not wanting to interrupt. He spoke with much confidence when addressing his townspeople. The group looked satisfied with what the young mayor had to say and the all nodded before heading out of the tent past passing Trevor on their way.

The young mayor caught sight of the warrior and stood up from his desk jubilantly and briskly walked to him.

"Welcome sir you have truly done the people of this village a huge kindness!" He said when he arrived in front of Trevor. The whip wielder nodded quietly at the boy's praise.

"It is an honor to meet you sir. What is the name of this hero before me so that we may record it and tell the tale to future generations?"

"Trevor Belmont." came the cool answer. Trevor could see maturity in the boy's face, but he could not hide his youth.

"Well Mr. Belmont, Luck was on our side when you arrived." The boy motioned for them to head towards his desk. The young mayor took a seat behind the parchment littered thing. "Please have a seat, there is much to talk about." Trevor made no move for the wooden chair and stood vigilantly facing the boy.

"Very well then, do as you wish." The mayor smiled. "Now, do tell me the tale of how you came to know of our plight. I have been aching to hear the details since I heard of your arrival."

"I can't make much sense of it myself." Trevor said. "I was asleep and was awoken in the night by whispers. I thought I was still sleeping, so obeyed their calls. I was led to a hallowed tree outside of a church and inside was this." He motioned towards the whip dangling from his waist. "Then I was told that a great curse would spread from this area and that it was my duty to stop it. After that, the voices left. I thought I was going insane If it wasn't for the attack on the village, I would still have my doubts." Trevor realized that he had spoken more in the last few seconds than he had since the strange occurrence began. The whole thing had been quite a toll on him. Trevor realized that he had said more than he had intended and resumed his typical emotionless stance.

"Fascinating!" stated the mayor with a big smile on his face. "God seems to favor you to be sure. I hear your prowess in battle was quite impressive. Were you granted those abilities as well?"

"No, I know my way with weapons." Trevor replied with his usual standoffishness.

"That is quite impressive." The boy leader spoke again with a small smile upon his face, growing a little wider. "Would you like to hear what I have to say about our situation?"

Trevor eyed the mayor feigning interest.

"This will all be explained by my findings through careful homework. Our village relies on the crops that we grow through the summer months to survive during the winter. As I am sure you have heard, the farmers have had a very bad harvest. Most, if not all what they grew failed. We had no course but to use what we could from their fields. Most of what we grow here are grains. Wheat, barley, that sort. I have reason to believe that some of the bad crop made it into the food that the entire village had been consuming. There is literature written that bad grains in bread and even the ale you yourself consumed last night, will give people the symptoms of paranoia, restlessness, and ultimately severe hallucinations and illness. I was not present at last night's battle as I was investigating my theory."

Trevor eyed the man incredulously. What was the boy selling him?

"I have found that most of our food in the storage to be riddled with spoiled grain, and yes the ale was affected as well. It is by my scientific understanding that I come to the conclusion that last night's events were entirely imagined. In fact the fires were proven to be started by a group of the villagers, their wits long gone. They have presented themselves and will be dealt with accordingly to the very extent of our law."

The whip wielder couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was surprised by the level of maturity in the boy. Although he didn't show it in his expression, he did not believe what the mayor was saying.

"What about the children?" Trevor asked, his eyes narrowing. "What is the reason for their disappearance then?"

"Ah the children." came the boy's reply. He sat there closing his eyes for a moment, internalizing the warrior's words. "Their disappearance troubles me greatly. Some of them are only two years younger than I. I have thought about it and I believe that a neighboring village must have kidnapped them. There have been some ill relations with at least one of them in recent days and threats have come from them. I intend to have it investigated immediately."

"Neighboring village." The Belmont echoed the boy mayor's words. He thought for a moment. Had what he experienced last night truly been all in his head? There was only one way to find out.

"Well then Mr. Belmont. Now that you see that we no longer have need of your assistance, what do you intend to do? I am sure we can put you up in comfortable accommodations for a few days, but I am afraid that your quest was for not. I have a colleague in a city to the south who is an expert with matters of the psychological. I can send word to him if you would like?" the boy's smile giving way to seriousness.

"I'm headed into the woods." Trevor stated bluntly. What was this child carrying on about? If there was one person Trevor could trust, it was his very self. He knew what he saw last night. He would see for himself what fate met the children of this village.

"I won't stop you Mr. Belmont, but don't say that I didn't try and help you see. You will find nothing in that forest."

Trevor had had enough of the conversation. He turned around quickly and started for the exit. The young mayor eyed the man as he took his leave. He then went back to inspecting the papers on his desk.

As Trevor walked to the eastern edge of the village he went over what the mayor had said. The accusations of bad grain in the food had merit, but something bothered him. How was it then that the area where the skull knight's blade kissed him still ached slightly? He needed to get to the woods and investigate.

Many villagers waved at him as he made the short trip to the eastern outskirts. No guards were posted at the exit. The boy's claims must have reached every ear within the walls. He supposed most of them thought that the people who perished in the night due to the raging inferno caused by a group of their own. How easily they were ready to dismiss the unbelievable events. Those poor men would hang, and Trevor was sure that the boy would convince even them of what he thought occurred just before their lives needlessly ended. The whip toting warrior did not believe a single word of it. He would not allow himself.

Reaching the wooden gates to the east, Trevor took a quick look back at the busy villagers. He then proceeded through, to follow the dirt path that led to the woods. He walked for a short time down the mud filled road in silence. On either side there were the remnants of the village's crops. A great field was filled endlessly with rotting corn that had fallen over in its decay. Another field was littered with wheat that had turned a dark brown. The would-be crop seemed to be bending over to kiss the earth that it would soon be a part of. Similar images repeated for another half mile as the Belmont headed for the edge of the woods.

He soon came to a small farm with near empty fields. A familiar old man was in the near distance removing the spoiled crop from the soil on his land. Trevor stopped and looked at the man for a moment. It was Shamus' farm. He seemed to be working very hard indeed until the old man noticed Trevor standing in the road. He waved at Trevor and started to walk towards the mud filled path where Trevor was waiting.

" Hey! Mr Belmont!" Shamus called on his way over. "I need to talk to ya for a second!"

Trevor waited as the man slowly made his way to the road. The old man had an urgent expression on his face and hopped with every ounce of strength he had as he made his was over. When Shamus arrived, he was out of breath and wheezing. He bent over at the waist and put his hands on his knees to rest his weary bones. The old man sighed as he regained his senses and looked at the warrior with urgency.

"Mr Belmont." The elderly man began. "I am glad I had a chance to speak with you. I had feared you had left town because of the crap the mayor's son is spewing. Did he tell you?"

Trevor nodded at the man's question.

"The thing is, I know what I saw that night and you know it too." Shamus continued. "Those children were taken by horrible creatures and that little brat thinks a neighboring village did it? He just wants to start a fight, I reckon."

Trevor suspected the very same thing when the mayor's son's words had reached his ears.

"The village was very quick to accept his claims." Trevor said. "I still plan on finding the children and your clue is the only thing I have to go on."

"Come inside, I have a stew on." spoke Shamus with a smile. "I would like to talk with you more before you set out, and it's starting to get dark. No sense in standing in the road."

Trevor gave the man another nod. He noticed then that he hadn't eaten since he had arrived.

The old man hobbled towards his small cabin. There was a fire going and smoke plumed out of the rock chimney. Trevor followed Shamus as he made his way. The old man opened the rickety door and motioned for Trevor to enter. When he stepped past the threshold, he took in his surroundings. It was a small one room cabin with walls made of whatever scraps of wood the old man could find. There was a small table with two wooden chairs next to the one window in the room. A meager fireplace housed a small put hanging over the red coals within. Every minute or so it would let out a small puff of steam and a little bit of its contents would spill over the side, sizzling in the warmth below.

"Please have a seat." Shamus said as he motioned towards one of the rickety wooden chairs. Trevor decided to humor the old man and complied. He hadn't truly rested his legs in quite some time and as he sat down a sigh of instant relief escaped his lips. Shamus waddled over to the boiling cook pot with two bowls and a ladle in his arms. Carefully, he filled the bowls with the molten contents wafting the pleasant aroma to his face in the process. Trevor's stomach growled causing the old man to bellow with laughter.

"My young friend, it will do you no good to start your journey with such a hunger in your belly. Here, eat well and build up some energy." Shamus walked over to the table and set the clay bowl in front of the Belmont before taking his seat across from him. Trevor wasted no time scooping the bowl up and bringing it to his mouth. Had he ever been this hungry? The elderly villager ate from his bowl as well before setting it down with a satisfied look on his face.

"Luck would have it that my livestock seems unaffected by the curse for now. I can survive the winter I believe." said Shamus.

"What is it you wanted to speak to me about?" asked Trevor as he set his bowl down upon the table.

"Ah yes, straight to the business end of it, I see." remarked the ancient man. "I like you, young traveler. You have the aura of justice about you that men in these times seem to lack as a whole. Because of that I am going to tell you a tale that was told to me by my grandfather told to his grandfather before him. It is an old legend that has been forgotten by this village, but I now have a chance to pass it on."

Shamus took a deep breath and paused for a moment looking for the words to start. The Belmont eyed the man with interest and took another sip from the stew.

"Years and years ago… Before people really kept written record of things, this land was filled with all manner of terrifying and cruel beasts. The people back then had to be on their toes at all times and it was not out of the ordinary to be removed from the land of the living at any instant. No one left their homes at night due to the fact that the creatures were far more active then. They were fearful, superstitious men and women. They never ventured into the woods, and definitely stayed well and clear from the ancient castle, as it was believed that the beasts were created there through some dark pact with the devil, or witchcraft. Eventually someone came up with the bright idea that by appeasing whatever evil lurked within the castle interior; perhaps they would be spared any further horrors in the future. They held a big meeting one night and decided that they would offer a sacrifice to the lord of the creatures. They would lead one of their own to the entrance of the woods and bind them to a pole hoping that at least the beings within the dark wood would be pleased and end their constant hunt. That is just what they did and all were too happy to offer their kin to the cause."

Trevor did not like where this was going but continued to give the man his full attention. The old man let out a deep, heavy sigh. The story wasn't going to get any better.

"Eventually a village girl was chosen. Her parents begged the elders to let them offer her. Of course she resisted, but it was no use. That night she was rounded up by the whole of the village and dragged against her will to the sight of their dark sacrifice. The creatures could be heard stalking them the entire way. Single file they went by torchlight to the base of the forest and tied her mercilessly to the pole. She screamed in defiance but her pleading was only met with cold silence. As soon as their deed was done, they left for their precious village. They left that poor girl to the whims of the night."

The old man lit a candle to stave off the growing darkness that was beginning to fill the room from the twilight that was fast covering the land. Trevor sat in silence, mulling over what the man was telling him. Had people really been that afraid then? Scared out of their minds enough to offer their own friends and family to the night on the off chance that maybe, just maybe it would satisfy the evil things that lurked in the shadows? The needs of many outweigh those of the few. That manner of thinking sickened the Belmont to the depths of his soul. Shamus coughed terribly before continuing his story.

"When the villagers returned in the morning, they found the corpse of the young woman and were astonished at what had become of her. She still hung there on the pole, her face hung down towards the ground lifeless. The men and women gasped at the sight of her. Her features had been reduced to a dried out mummified mess, barely resembling the girl she once was. Like when you preserve a carcass in salt so that it keeps longer. She had no trace of fluid in her body and her face was contorted into an eternal scream of complete anguish. They couldn't believe what they saw and some felt remorse for what they had done to cause her such suffering."

"That night, to everyone's astonishment, the monsters did not come. In fact for months there were no signs from the evil creatures at all. Peace washed over the land and it seemed like their horrors were over. However, eventually the creatures returned and started picking off the villagers who had just begun to forget their woes. The elders wasted no time in selecting another young woman as their next sacrifice. If it worked once, it will work again, they figured. Again they rounded the girl up in the night and took her to the sight of the previous sacrifice. No remorse was given, and they left quickly, as soon as they finished committing such an abominable act. In the morning it was the same thing. Nothing but a mummified corpse hanging lifelessly from the pole that they had bound her to."

"The monsters stayed away again after that?" Trevor asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes." Shamus answered with no enthusiasm. "For months they again stayed away. When they started returning, the dark sacrifice was repeated once more. Again and again this went on until families were having children just for the cause of giving them up to the whims of whatever horrors lay within the dark wood. One such girl was selected before she was more than an hour old. She grew to the ripened age of seventeen, knowing that on her eighteenth year she would give up her life. I can only imagine what that felt like."

"What felt like?" asked the Belmont.

"Knowing the exact date of your death." The old man shuddered at the thought of it.

"The tale states that she was fearless. Probably because she knew her end was inevitable anyway. She became the village healer at fifteen and would often venture into the woods that the villagers so feared unaccompanied to forage for herbs. Always, she returned and would tend to the sick, wounded and all that. They were all grateful for the service she selflessly gave to them. At the same time, they grew to be wary of the girl. Hushed whispers gave voice to many rumors about the girl and how she managed to always venture into the woods and emerge unscathed. Eventually though her time came. Her eighteenth birthday arrived and instead of presents, she would receive only the terrible fate that had been given to her at birth. When they came to her that night, she did not resist and went silently to her final resting place. Due to her kind nature and help over the years, the villagers felt sorry for her, but knew what had to be done. They left her there that night knowing all too well what would befall the poor girl."

Shamus wasted no time continuing his tale of woe.

"When they went to retrieve her dried corpse in the morning, they were more than astonished at what they found."

Trevor was lost in the man's words and leaned in closer as he spoke.

"Nothing. Not a trace of the girl was there. Her ropes still hung to the pole, not severed or untied. This made the villagers fearful. Had she escaped? Was she taken? They did not know and they were sure that something was amiss. They huddled like babes in their own homes for near a month. Not a soul dared to leave the comfort and safety of their own walls, sure that the monsters were out there waiting for them. Ultimately it was starvation that took most of them for they hid themselves for nearly a year with little food supply. Those that survived were amazed at the event that occurred after that time… the girl returned. Not a mark on her. Her parents had passed on while she was away, and the villagers started their rumor making again. No sooner than she had walked through the wooden gates, she was immediately deemed a witch. She must have made a pact with those evil creatures to save her own skin, and they were not going to have anything to do with them living in their own walls."

"They forcibly took her then and there, everyone finally leaving their homes. They were convinced that it was her that had caused their suffering, easily forgetting the reason they started sacrificing girls in the first place. Extreme hunger blinded their judgment and they had gone mad while the girl was away. They were nothing more than animals. They stripped her and inspected her for signs of witchcraft. Every mark or blemish on her body was scrutinized until they were satisfied that they were correct in their assumptions. Still naked, they drug her to the main square where a huge pyre awaited her. Her terrified screams of defiance were met with zero sympathy as they bound her once again; sure to finish the job they started a year before."

"Her screams lasted hours. You don't die quickly when you are burned to death. You suffer. You writhe, hoping that the reaper will come to you and end your torment. Eventually death did come for the girl. When all was said and done, nothing was left of the pyre or the unfortunate healer. After that, the creatures of the night never returned and the villagers were satisfied that they had made the right assumption naming her the cause of their woes. Life went on, and eventually they thrived."

Trevor weighed the man's words, trying to see if it was a puzzle piece that would fit into the current mystery. He couldn't be sure, but the tale gave him shivers nonetheless. He gazed into the now empty bowl in silence for a moment before he finally spoke.

"Thank you for your hospitality but I must go."

"Just like that." The old man remarked with a smirk. "I don't know if my story is true, or if it even helps your situation. I am sure though that you will bring those kids back regardless of the cause of their vanishing. Perhaps the mayor's son is right and we were all out of our gourds last night."

"Perhaps not." Trevor said as he gave a slight bow to the old man before opening the wooden door and venturing out into the night ready to face whatever may come.

"Indeed my friend." The old man whispered to the empty room. "Perhaps not indeed."


End file.
